TSS - Dinner at Mildred's
by RandomSeaponyStories
Summary: After Victor and Anita start dating, Anita is invited to dinner at Mildred's house, where she finds out one of Victor's deepest, darkest, and more embarrassing secrets.


_"Okay, Gregory, you have only one letter left on the board. If you get this right, then the one million dollar prize is all yours. GO!"_

_ The camera cut to the letter board. Nine of the letters had been revealed, but one was still missing, leaving the row of tiny screens to spell out: "SPI_Y SHRIMP"._

_ The camera cut back to contestant Gregory Allimara, who squinted his eyes and stuck out his tongue a bit as he entered a mental state of intense focus. _

In the comfort of a large cottage someways outside of London, Anita Knight began digging her long purple nails into the couch as she leaned in closer towards the television. Under her breath she mutter, "Come on, come on, say 'spicy', say 'spicy shrimp'..."

_"Uh, is it 'Spiny Shrimp'?"_

_ "WRONG!"_

_ Underneath the red-headed contestant's feet, a huge pit swiftly opened up, revealing a hole full of water and the occasional shark fin cutting through the man-made pond's surface._

_ Greg took a moment to look down at his fate in silent horror. After turning to the camera to give several awkward blinks, he finally plumitted towards his doom. _

_ As a huge splash followed by several screams sounded from the pit, the Black British host slid into the camera shot. _

_ "Poor Greg! Turns out the correct answer was 'SPICY' shrimp. Huh, who woulda guessed? Aaaannnyyywho, them's the ropes; get the words right or meet your fate! Alrighty folks, we'll see you next time on everyone's favorite do-or-die show, _

_ 'WHEEL_

_ OF_

_ MISFORTUNE!' "._

"I TOLD YOU!" Anita exclaimed as she thrusted her arms towards the small television set. "I told you it was 'spicy shrimp'!". She let out a frustrated sigh. "I swear, if I were on this show, i'd get farther than anyone else has before!"

"Hehehe, I bet you would."

Top U.Z.Z. agents, work partners, and long-time best buddies Victor Volt and Anita Knight were settled into Mildred Volt's sofa. The two had recently started a romantic relationship with one another, all thanks to a rather peculiar scheme of Victor's involving a bath robe, pet groomer's flyers and nearly all his body hair. Although he'd still rather not talk about it, he was overall thankful for the experience, as it led to him stealing the heart of the greatest girl he'd ever known.

As soon as Victor informed his Mother on their new lovey-dovey partnership, the widow insisted that he bring the young lady over to her home for dinner. The young male leapt at the idea; he knew his dear mother to be a very sweet lady and a wonderful cook(of course, the latter was just his own personal belief; if you asked anyone else, you would get a much different answer), so, even though Anita had met her before and already seemed to enjoy her company, he knew for a fact that this experience would bring his two favorite gals so much closer.

After the blonde arrived at the large, homely residence, the agent duet got wrapped up in a TV marathon of the classic game show, "Wheel of Misfortune", which Victor had been enjoying before his datemate even came over. Both spies asked Mildred over and over if they could assist with the cooking, but the well-aged woman heavily insisted that she do it all on her own. Accepting that they couldn't change her mind, the couple allowed themselves to cuddle on the sofa; or, at least, they TRIED to, but a certain someone couldn't stop getting up and gesturing towards the teensy television each time she put in her two cents on a contestant's less than stellar move. Honestly, Victor had no i dea that Anita could get so invested in a simple game show, but he figured it wasn't the biggest shock of his life, as Anita was the most competitive person he ever met. Truthfully, he thought it was kinda cute and entertaining to watch his partner flip out whenever someone guessed a wrong letter. He just prayed that she never actually get on a show like this, as he knew quite well that she would destroy the other players...literally.

That night, both the agents were given the oppurtunity to dress in something nice other than their U.Z.Z. suits, which was actually quite refreshing, as it almost felt like they were forced to wear something work related 24/7. Victor, in an attempt to look fancy enough for such an important night, was donning a blue men's dress shirt, black men's dress pants, fake gold cufflinks, and, Anita's most favorite part of his entire attire set: A dark blue belt with a matching bowtie.

Anita was dressed in a white sweater with horizontal red stripes, a tan cardigan, her signature purple headband, and her very best pair of jeans, (even if it was a special occasion, she'd still sooner eat an entire Thanksgiving feast cooked by than force herself into a dress.). By coincidence, both memebers of the duet had chosen to wear their already rather nice looking U.Z.Z. uniform shoes; you know what they say, great minds think alike! Of course, Anita had made the smart decision to have her pair cleaned and repaired beforehand, whereas Victor left his the way they were, scuffed up, slightly dirty and somewhat damaged. Oh well, at least great minds think SOMEWHAT alike.

In all honesty, tonight was a very special night to Victor. Even as he lay there on the couch with his new datefriend, he still couldn't help but feel jittery, as a voice in the back of his mind told him that somehow tonight would be a complete disaster. However, Anita wasn't too concerned over the whole ordeal; she had met Victor's mother and been invited to meals at her house many times before, so she was already aware of what a kind-hearted, affectionate old woman she was. Heck, she even hid out at her house for several days when the entire world was after her and Victor for a crime they didn't commit! Honestly, all she was really worried about that night was the meal. Sure, Anita was far from a top chef, (if it couldn't just be thrown in the toaster, she'd most likely set it aflame), but when it came to making revolting dishes, nobody beat . She had a talent of taking normally scrumptious foods and poisoning them with beyond strange "special ingredients". Thankfully, she had a saving grace: Mildred's pet Pomeranian, Miss Valentine. No matter how disgusting the food was, the yappy little canine would always eat her serving of pickle chocolate cake or onion apple pie under the table whilst the British woman worked hard to distract the two Americans.

"Oh." Anita whispered suddenly, her face frowning and her eyes widening a teeny bit in realization. " 'Scuse me for a moment."

As the gold-haired girl got up and left the room, Victor leaned back on the sofa, giving himself a chance to finally just relax.

_"Alrighty, Zoe,for the one million dollar prize, you only need to guess one single, solo, solitary letter."_

_A concerned looking Black British woman stared at the letter board, her eyes dilated with fear. She began biting her lip nervously as she read over the seven revealed letters: JUDO _ICK. Finally, just as the clock hit its last second, the frantic woman spat out her answer:_

_ "IS IT 'JUDO BICK'?!"_

_"WRONG!"_

_ The young lady screeched as a hawk, more than twenty times larger than the average species size, swooped down, clutched the girl's shoulders in its talons, and carried her off to who knows where._

As the noise of the television was drowned out by the sounds of toilet flushing and the sink running, Victor thanked the heavens that Anita had missed the whole scene that just played out before him; that horrendous answer probably would've made her flip the coffee table.

Once he heard her emerge from the restroom, Victor expected Anita to return to the couch and continue watching the hilariously dark game show with him. Instead, she stopped in her tracks in the middle of the hallway, and yelled out four words that would cause a once nice, peaceful evening to become one of the worst nights of Victor's life:

"Victor….is this YOU?!"

After leaping off his seat and rushing into the hallway, Victor could've sworn he had a mini heart attack once he realized what his girlfriend was staring at. Over the years, his mother had lined the walls with what seemed like hundreds of different photos of him and other family members, but of course the British blonde chose to look over the one picture that the American man meant to dispose of before her arrival, but ultimately forgot about after getting caught up in the television marathon. Hung up next to a significantly prouder picture from Victor's highschool graduation was a photograph his mother took of him when he was fifteen of sixteen years old.

It was by far the most humiliating picture he had ever been in. He had been begging his mom for years to take it down, but for some reason she always insisted on keeping the embarassing portrait on display. In front of a simple teal background stood a teenage Victor Volt. Acne plagued his face like mountains on a map. A small, wispy, thin beard grew on his chin, the pathetic orangish-brown soul patch sending out many messy spikes like porcupine pricks. The facial hair matched perfectly with the teen's hairdo; like giant, orange crashing waves, the spiky mop of hair seemed to fly about in all directions, overgrown, greasy, and flinging itself all about his head. Much like in his costume for the World Anthem Competition, his hair connected itself to thick brownish-orange sideburns growing on the sides of his head; however, they were probably the only part of his former appearance that Victor actually liked. His nowadays bright, lively eyes looked dark and angry, or like they were trying way too hard to look dark and angry. They almost seemed sunken into his head, although they may have only given that impression due to the dark circles underneath them. Under his still gargantuan nose his teeth were gritted tight, adding to the idea that he was trying desperately to look edgy and irritated. He was draped in a dirty, dark red t-shirt, the front decorated with a white, flaming Kiwi Bird skull, which Victor assumed was most likely the logo of some strange, indie punk-rock band that never made it out of their parent's garage.

Finally, in an attempt to answer his partner's question, the male stuttered out: "I-Well-I-I-No-I mean, I guess-I-I-I mean, it COULD be, but it's just, I-". He felt his face beginning to blush as he failed to give a proper answer.

The girl didn't even look in his direction. She just continued to glare intently at the portrait of her new boyfriend. For a few seconds she stood there, her eyes wide and her mouth "O"-shaped, as though looking upon an impossible, supernatural being for the first time and not knowing how to react. At last, a smirk grew on her face. Then she began to chuckle, and soon her cute, girly little giggles transformed into loud, hysterical laughter.

"Oh, V-V-VICTOR!" she choked out in-between fits of laughter, "Y-you never told me y-you w-were an emo!"

"I WAS NOT EMO!" Victor retorted, his face getting redder by the minute as the blondie girl continued to laugh her head off. "I'll have you know that I was GRUNGE; it was a very popular style back then!" he said angrily, trying to defend the very little honor he had left in that scenario.

As soon as her long-time best buddy finished speaking, Anita's already uncontrollable laughter reached volumes and pitches that were so high, Victor had no idea her voice was even capable of them until now.

"O-oh my G-GOODNESS, th-th-that makes it even B-BETTER!" the blonde woman managed to spit out through her own laughter. As she clutched her stomach in pain, her face began to turn a color similar to that of a ripe tomato, and stray tears began falling down her freckled cheeks. The whole time her laughter never ceased, and Victor's cheeks, nose and ears continued to become a fiery hot temperature similar to that of a sick fever. However, he knew illness had nothing to do with it; it was all 00.1% anger, and 99.9% pure embarassment.

Suddenly, Anita began to stumble backwards, swaying a tad as she did so. Quickly afterwards she completely lost her balance and hit the carpeted floor with a hard thud. Despite the hard blow to her rear, the gal never ended her hyena-like cackling, even throughout the entire out-of-character tumble for the usually so careful and steady female. Throwing her head back and allowing her golden locks to fly behind her, she carried on letting out shrieking laughter into the air as rivers of tears were now flowing down the slope of her face like raging waterfalls.

Seemingly out of nowhere, an old woman poked her head around the doorframe, her large orange curls bouncing as she did so and her large, dark eyes widening with curiousity. She presumably had been completely oblivious to the chaos until now, as she then questioned in a sweet, almost comically sing-songy voice, "What are you kids laughing at?"

The female spy just continued on with her endless stream of laughter, as though she refused to stop for anyone or anything. Confused, Mildred looked towards her ticked-off son in hopes of an answer. In response, he pointed his dark brown eyes toward the mortifying picture that dangled off the wall. The elderly lady inhaled with understanding once she put it all together.

"Oh, you know, sweetheart, there's actually a very funny story behind that ol' photograph."

She had said the magic words. At long last, Anita's lengthy laughter train came to a screeching halt. A large, goofy smile painted on her face, the young woman used her eyes to beg her future mother-in-law to share the tale with her. Victor barely had any time to rejoice in the termination of his lover's rude laughter, as his mother almost immediately answer his partner's prayers.

"Welp, it was Thanksgiving day-"

"Oh, Mom, please don't-"

"We had the whole family over, but Vicster here just REFUSED to come out of his bedroom-"

"MOM-"

It was no use. No matter what he did or said, the young American man could not stop the inevitable. As his mom continued to ramble about the worst Thanksgiving of his life and his brand new ladyfriend sat there, drinking in the painfully truthful story tale like a young child, he leaned his body against the wall and slumped down onto the floor in defeat. His face shining with a shade of red brighter than a cherry candy, he began to rub his forehead, which was now starting to throb, and groaned in a manner similar to his own boss.

This was going to be a very long night.


End file.
